


The Devil and the Dancer

by warriorlorcan



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-06 13:38:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8754031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warriorlorcan/pseuds/warriorlorcan
Summary: Elide Lochan was on track to become one of the most celebrated dancers at University of Indiana, and well on her way to earning a contract with a major ballet company, until one fall shatters her entire world. How will Elide pick up the pieces from her past life, and will she be able to construct a new one? 
Elide will find out what it really means to be a dancer, and learn a lot more about herself along the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my new Elorcan fic! Big thanks to Az for the title help. I’m planning on it being multi-chapter, but I won’t write more of this if people aren’t seeming to like it, so feedback is much appreciated! Enjoy!

_Elide remembered every detail of the fall. She was in the final dress rehearsal of_ La Bayadere _at Indiana University, starring in the role of Nikiya—something no other sophomore had ever achieved. Her Pointe shoes were brand new, just broken in enough. Her fouetté turns were seemingly flawless, a huge accomplishment for her. She’d always been afraid of them. That was when she went down. She still didn’t know what it was, how her foot bent in just the wrong way, but her ankle just snapped. She remembered blinking up at the ceiling, seeing the metal railings, lighting fixtures and the catwalk that were all rest up, up, up. She’d wondered where the chairs had gone. The small audience, mostly critics, the director, the choreographer. They were all just gone, replaced by the endless space above her._

_Elide couldn’t breathe once she’d hit the ground, either. She didn’t know if it was because the impact had knocked all of the air out of her, or if it was because she’d_ heard _the faint crack that ended her career._

_She’d been on track to fly halfway across the world to study ballet after she graduated, likely to become a prima ballerina in Russia. Her teachers had called her the best dancer they’d seen in fifteen years—not that they’d ever said that to her face._

_Ballet was not forgiving of Elide. Ballet did not forget her mistakes, or want her to succeed. Ballet was brutal and harsh and violent. When she was young, ballet had been everything it was supposed to be—graceful and smooth and beautiful. She’d made her mother buy her season tickets to the local ballet company, and she went to see every Nutcracker from the time she was three until she turned seventeen._

_When she’d gotten to Bloomington, everything had seemed perfect. She was there on close to a full scholarship—the only reason she hadn’t chosen Julliard. She already had a job lined up to help her pay the extra two thousand, plus books. Her roommate—a girl who dressed in exclusively short, tight black dresses named Kaltain—was nice enough, if a little absent. And when Elide had first walked into the primary dance studio, she’d almost started sobbing._

_Back in Denver, she hadn’t had enough money to pay to go to the nicest studios after her parents had passed away. Her teachers were good, but the wood floors were matte, the mirrors foggy. She’d had to go without any barre for three months because it had broken in the middle of her junior year of high school. She’d worked at the studio after hours to help pay for her private lessons._

_But Indiana’s studio… it was the work of a master. The floor was glossy enough that she was afraid to step on it without her Pointe shoes, the mirror shimmered, making even her look pretty. The lighting was soft, nothing like the harsh fluorescents back home. There were extra bars in the back in case someone put too much weight on one. Classes wouldn’t start for another week, so she’d fished her shoes out from her bag and turned across the wood for almost an hour._

_After she’d broken her ankle, the doctors had given her two options. They’d said that there was a good chance she’d be able to dance again, if she had surgery. Or, she could opt for no surgery, just a cast, leaving her unable to do ballet. The former was incredibly expensive. But of course, her uncle would never have paid for a “useless” surgery. She’d heal just fine without it, he’d said. It was time for her to find a more realistic hobby anyway. Vernon had flown all the way from Denver just to tell her that she’d never get away from him again. But she still had four semesters left, and she’d convinced him that it’d be a waste if she didn’t finish out a degree._

“Elide,” she heard a voice mutter, then a throat being cleared. “Ms. Lochan. We really need to talk about what your next steps are. You obviously can’t dance.” She flinched a little at the words and let herself slink back to the real world, returning her focus to her counselor, Mrs. Ramirez. The older woman had jet-black hair folded into a bun and a big nose that looked like it had been flattened forcibly. Elide tried to pretend like she’d just been bored, not reliving her injury over and over again. She looked down and studied her nails.

“Well, what major do I already have enough pre-reqs for?” Her nails were in desperate need of attention. Elide saw Mrs. Ramirez out of the top of her vision, peering down at her transcripts.

“You’ve taken higher level math classes. Engineering is out of the picture, of course, but you could try a math major.” Elide only scoffed. _Math as a career? No, thank you._ Mrs. Ramirez cleared her throat again. “You have a French minor already, why not add a couple classes for the next few semesters and make it a major?” Elide looked up.

“What am I supposed to do with a major in _French?_ ”

“Elide,” Mrs. Ramirez said firmly, “I was under the impression that you just wanted a degree. If you aren’t willing to do anything that you aren’t deathly passionate about, and you aren’t deathly passionate about anything but ballet, you’re going to have a very difficult few years, but a Bachelor’s will open up doors to a Masters, and beyond. So, I suggest you suck it up and switch to a French major so you can _graduate already_.” She huffed when she finished, and Elide noticed her nostrils flare. Elide kept her chuckle to herself and began lifting her long, dark hair above her head into a tight bun, securing it with the white ribbon-like hair tie she kept around her wrist.

“So, how do I go about switching?” Mrs. Ramirez pulled her keyboard towards her and began rapidly typing, mumbling to herself every once in a while.

Half an hour later, Elide had a new class schedule, and a pounding headache. She hobbled across campus on her crutches, hoping that she wouldn’t fall like she had on her way to the Admin building.

Her apartment was only a couple blocks away from all of IU’s main green-spaces, and normally was a rather pleasant walk, but with an ankle in a brace, it was a little harder to manage. Thankfully, one of her roommates was on her way back from class and helped her along.

Asterin was one of Elide’s two roommates; both dance performance majors, like she had once been. She’d fallen in with them on one of the first days of class. There had been two groups stretching in two different areas of the floor. She’d picked the group that had looked less pretentious. She’d been right. A lot of them had known one another before they came to Indiana, had danced at the same studios, but they were quick to welcome Elide in (at the orders of their unspoken leader, Manon).

Manon and Asterin were distant cousins, and best friends. For the first year she’d known them, Elide had always felt out of place among them, but the more time she spent with them, the more she began to fit in. The two girls were essentially opposites, personality-wise. Where Asterin was bubbly and kind, Manon was often hostile. She tended to sit back and watch her friend dazzle everyone around her, stepping in only occasionally to groan about Asterin’s bad decisions. Asterin didn’t seem to mind.

Elide would never admit it to either of her roommates, but she was nervous about her switch in majors, and what it would do to their Terrible Trio. Their friendship had been based off of ballet. It still pained her to see the two girls come home from a long day of rehearsals, or from barre, knowing that she’d never be able to join them again.

Elide would never again place that soft smile on her face, reserved for performing. She’d never know the feeling of flying like she had when she’d been lifted above her _pas de deux_ partner’s head. She was alone, without her one true love. And Elide had no idea how she’d begin to bounce back.


	2. Chapter 2

Elide was given the rest of the semester off, and she didn’t want to tell Vernon. Asterin and Manon had no problem with her staying in the apartment, but it meant that she had nothing to do most days. She only worked a few hours a week at a dance studio in town. She had been teaching the younger kids, but it was a little harder to do with a broken ankle, so she’d resorted to merely cleaning up. Ms. Kathy had been incredibly kind and told her not to worry. She still paid her the same amount for a lesser job. Elide couldn’t have been more grateful.

Manon and Asterin had told her that she didn’t need to pay rent, but she’d refused to accept that. The two girls were incredibly wealthy, old money or something like that, but Elide liked the feeling of being able to pay her own portion of the rent. They’d conceded and told her she could still _pay_ , but she just didn’t have to pay as much. Elide had accepted, secretly pleased that she wouldn’t have to work a second job for the time being. 

It was hard to watch her roommates come back and forth from dance classes and rehearsals, really any classes at all. There was nothing she wanted more than to join them, to rip her leg out of the boot-like brace she was wearing and twirl and twirl for hours. But Vernon had crushed that part of her. He’d taken the dancer away. Permanently. She’d cried herself to sleep more times than she would have liked to admit.

So, Elide spent her days watching bad dance movies and television shows, only taking breaks to head to work and back. Asterin went out almost every night, but Elide always turned down her offers to join and Manon sat in the living room chugging beers. Elide had no motivation to drink a few of her own. Elide wasn’t sure how Manon had gotten all their alcohol, anyway. Illegally, since none of them were twenty-one yet. 

The semester came and went and all three girls decided to stay for the summer. Elide wanted to teach a few summer intensives—something that would be at least relatively possible once her brace came off within the first few weeks of summer. Manon and Asterin had mostly agreed to stay to look after Elide, but they would find ways to keep themselves busy. Enough people stayed in Bloomington over the summer that they would have things to do.

Manon went with her to the doctor’s appointment, and she was _finally_ cleared for regular movement and life without a boot. Manon had forced her to have a beer when they’d gotten home in celebration, but Elide could barely stomach the taste and was only able to have a couple sips before Manon snatched it away from her. Once Asterin had gotten home from wherever she’d been for the day, she hugged Elide and practically begged her to go dancing with her. Elide had protested, saying she still couldn’t really dance, but Asterin had insisted and it was difficult to turn her down 

Elide slithered into a form fitting dress, but decided against putting on any more makeup than the few wisps of mascara she’d swiped on that morning. Asterin offered to curl her hair, and Elide obliged, letting the warmth of the curling iron soak through her. She was okay. She was a ghost of herself, but she could learn to love French, or whatever. Elide would not let this setback keep her from the rest of her life. She squared her shoulders and let Asterin lead her to the club a couple blocks away.

Elide still had a faint limp, unused to walking without the boot now, but it was manageable. She felt more like herself again, even allowing herself to smile at her roommate. Once they were in the club, she told Asterin she’d get them a table as she disappeared to secure them drinks, swaying her hips along with the music. Elide shook her head and found one of the few empty booths, sliding in and setting her jacket atop the round surface. She drummed her fingers along the wood to the beat.

Asterin returned soon, a tray of shots in her hand and Elide raised her eyebrows. The blonde rolled her eyes and pushed three of them towards Elide. She sighed, but picked one up, counting to three before she swallowed the liquor, letting it burn its way down her throat. She tried to take a break before the next one, but Asterin smiled devilishly and pointed at her second shot. Elide tipped her head back and shoved it in. She could already feel the effect starting to take hold of her, not to mention the taste of puke in her mouth. She pushed the third shot across the table to her friend.

“I can’t,” she yelled, “you have it.” Asterin looked at her wearily, but shrugged and tossed it back. She smiled and tugged Elide onto the dance floor.

Asterin was a much wilder dancer than Elide had ever been. While Elide had never really tried any types of dance other than ballet before she’d gotten to Indiana, Asterin was a killer tap dancer as well, and had more rhythm than anyone she’d ever met. Elide tended to bounce her head a little bit as a form of dance, but Asterin was all hips, swaying along the dance floor. She was electric.

 As they walked into the center of the floor, Asterin leaned in to yell into Elide’s ear.

“There’s a battle going on tonight. I think you’ll like it.”

“There’s a _what?_ ” Elide screamed back. Asterin laughed.

“A _dance_ battle, dummy. Just watch.” Sure enough, there was a large portion of the floor that was empty, save for a few dancers. Around them, the crowd had made a large circle, staying back so they could watch whatever was going to happen next. Elide crossed her arms over her chest as Asterin pushed people to get them to the front of the circle. Elide’s eyebrows raised at the sight before her, now much easier to decipher without the hoard covering her view 

There were six people in the center of the circle. They were split in half, obviously two groups. One of them was composed of two girls and one guy, though one of the girls seemed to be the front man, so to speak. The other group was all men, each of them clothed in all black, from shirts to sneakers. The leader of this group was tall, incredibly so, his skin almost terra cotta colored. His dark hair was held up in a bun, his face decorated with sharp, severe lines and a harsh expression. Elide couldn’t explain why she was drawn to him—maybe the sculpted outline of his chest and stomach through his tank top, or the evidently strong biceps revealed by it.

The two teams glared at each other for a second before the music switched and they took on completely different personas. She couldn’t describe what she’d seen even if she tried. The six participants moved to the music, lived within it. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before, specifically in ballet. Ballet chose you; decided what kind of dancer you would be, but _this…_ This type of dance didn’t do anything until you told it do. Elide couldn’t take her eyes off of it.

Halfway through, she noticed herself moving along with the music, her ribcage doing things she didn’t know were possible. At some point, Elide realized she didn’t hate it. Asterin only looked over at her, cocked an eyebrow and smiled knowingly. Elide shook her head and returned to the music and the artists before her. Every action, every movement was so precise. Half the time, she couldn’t believe how the two groups were so in sync, and the other half she was wondering how they moved their bodies like that.

A few times, Elide caught the leader of the second group’s, or Biceps, as she’d decided to call him, eye when he had stopped dancing. She couldn’t tell if his gaze was out of attraction, or if he was side-eyeing her likely terrible dancing. His expression remained stony throughout each song.

She’d thought maybe they’d stop after one, but soon it had been almost an hour of back and forth between the two groups. Sweat was pouring off of most of them, and they were all breathing hard. Finally, a song ended and there seemed to be an unspoken agreement that now they were done, too. Each of the groups embraced each other, most of their faces breaking from cold determination into smiles, warmth.

She didn’t get to see more because Asterin had grabbed her arm and dragged her back through the crowd to the bar. The blonde leaned in to speak to Elide.

“You, my friend, have not had _nearly_ enough to drink. Order something, this one’s on me.” Elide smiled.

“Thanks,” she muttered, but she didn’t know if Asterin could hear her over the music. The bartender had made is way over to her and she turned to talk to him.

“What can I get you?” Elide wracked her brain, trying to think of _some_ kind of drink. Elide had never been a fan of alcohol. She hadn’t gone to parties in high school, and now that she was in college, she had even less time. She ordered the first drink that popped into her head, probably from too many years of bad TV.

“Long Island Iced Tea,” Elide tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Please,” she added. Her fingers drummed on the counter. Suddenly, she felt the warmth of a body dangerously close to her. She turned to her right to see Biceps. He was leaning his back against the bar, his elbows propped up on it, too. He looked devilishly nonchalant. His brow was still furrowed, but even more so than before. Elide opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

“What the _hell_ are you doing here, Bun Head.”


	3. Chapter 3

“What do you mean?”

“You shouldn’t be here, ballerina.” The man’s deep voice was surprisingly audible over the roar of the crowd and the music.

“Who are you to tell me where I should be? Do I know you or something?” Biceps definitely seemed to know her. It was odd for her to forget a face, and she was extra positive that she would have remembered his. She found herself studying it as she waited for him to respond. Every inch of his face was harsh: his jaw line, his cheekbones, his permanent scowl. He was still oddly beautiful despite it, like it suited him or something. He didn’t respond for a while, and Elide eventually rolled her eyes, grabbed her drink, and started to walk away from him. He caught her wrist.

“I’m telling you, you don’t want to be here. No ballet bots allowed.” Elide jerked her wrist out of his hand.

“You don’t know what I want. And I’m not a ballet bot.” She started shuffling her way through the crowd in an attempt to find Asterin. She could feel his body heat even without hearing him over the sounds of the club. Elide ignored him and continued walking. He leaned in behind her, his breath hot on her shoulder as they walked.

“You’ll get torn apart in here. There’s no way you can keep up.” Elide rolled her eyes again.

“What do you mean?”

“The dancing.”

“Good thing I’m not a dancer then.” He halted and she kept walking, finally spotting Asterin’s blonde head. She faintly heard him call out, but she ignored him and continued on.

Asterin was giggling like crazy when Elide reached her.

“Ready to go?” Asterin grinned and nodded. She was a little shaky as Elide led her out of the club, making sure to wrap an arm around her. Elide didn’t know why, but she turned around briefly, looking back at the threshold of the club to find Biceps’ hard face morphed into a wicked smirk, waving at her. Elide flipped him the bird.

~

The rest of the summer had passed without much excitement, save for the small party Asterin had thrown, and the fight she’d had with Manon in the aftermath. Elide had refused to get involved. The cousins could work out their own shit, and clean up after their own parties.

Once they’d started school again, Elide ached to dance. It hadn’t bothered her all that much over the summer, but when she had to leave her dance bag at home, it was a little harder to forget about. Her shoulder felt empty. A couple times, she’d locked herself in her room and slid on her Pointe shoes, just to feel the familiar crunch of her toes. She wouldn’t let herself attempt to dance, though. Just a few minutes of the familiar toe caps covering her now-healed digits. All the blisters that she’d had from her shoes had disappeared, though the calluses remained. Elide would never have pretty feet; another thing that dance had taken from her.

She slid into a seat for her first class of the semester, _French Literature of the 1700s_. Definitely not the most interesting class she’d opted to take, but she guessed that none of her classes would be overwhelmingly fantastic this semester. She didn’t love French, though she knew it pretty well from her classes in high school. If she was being honest with herself, Elide didn’t love much these days. Everything was a chore, and the things she’d loved before her incident, even non-dance related activities, just didn’t seem worth the time anymore.

Elide slid a red notebook out of her bag, one of the cheap kinds from Target’s bargain bins. She looked around at her fellow classmates, no one she knew. She dropped her chin into her right hand, clicking the tip of her pen out with her left. There was minimal talking, but any chatter that there had been was silenced the second the door opened once more. Elide heard the click of it closing before she deigned to face her new professor.

His back was facing the lecture hall and it’s stadium-type seating. His hair was dark and mostly short, fading in to a little longer at the top of his head. It looked like every other boy she knew’s haircut. A grad student, then. His light blue button-up shirt was slightly ruffled, and she could see a loose tie thread around his neck. He set something on the desk and turned to face the class.

Elide shrunk into her seat immediately upon noticing who he was: the dancer from the club. His hair was much shorter than it had been, showing the rough cut of his jaw off in a better manner. She tried not to notice. Her fist clenched around her pen. This was a _semester-long_ class. She had to look at his stupid face twice a week for the rest of the school year. She silently begged for him to have the wrong classroom.

“Welcome to French Lit of the 1700s.” Elide fought a groan. “Congratulations, you’ve taken one of the hardest Lit classes offered here at Indiana.” This time she did groan, along with about half of the class. He chuckled darkly and maneuvered around the desk to pull down the projection slide.

“I’m Lorcan Salvaterre. I’m working on my masters in French Literature. I’m one hundred percent a Hoosier; I did my undergrad here, too. Ancient History. I’ll give you all my information once, don’t ask for it again.” The projector shuddered to life, a green slide projected at the front of the room. He gestured to it. “My email and office hours. Don’t hesitate to use me,” someone snickered, but Lorcan—Mr. Salvaterre—only ignored it, “but don’t bother me. I know you all have the potential to act like adults. Please do so in my class.” His teeth were too white, his eyebrows too wild, and his voice rumbled much too attractively in his chest. Elide hated him. She hated a lot of things, these days.

Mr. Salvaterre asked them to buy four books for the semester. All of them had beautiful French names that were awful sounding once translated into English. He’d told the class that he didn’t expect anyone to be fluent enough in French that they could read novels from the 18th century, though they’d all probably have a larger French vocabulary by the end of the semester, if not the year.

“Have you read them in French?” Elide didn’t even bother to turn to see who’d asked the question. Some dopey Sorority girl, no doubt. Elide bit her nails to pass the time. The first week of classes was always the most boring.

“A few times each.” _Yeah right,_ she thought.

When the hour-long class was finally over, Elide couldn’t get out of the lecture hall fast enough. She hid behind the hoard of other students, a mixture of Lit and French majors, so that Lorcan wouldn’t see her as she left. If all went as planned, she’d never have to have a direct conversation with him. She’d be safe until the class ended.

~

Her plans were too soon foiled. She was struggling in French Lit. Elide had a hard enough time in high school deciphering the wording of the Declaration of Independence, and it seemed that analyzing essentially the French versions of it was even harder. The first tutor she’d seen was an idiot, some senior who _really thought he was helping_. He wasn’t. Elide stopped going to those group-tutoring sessions, but soon found that the walk-in tutor was no better.

“Just go in, he probably doesn’t remember you,” Asterin suggested.

“If he does, you can always leave,” Manon inserted, picking at her nails with a butter knife. Asterin had long-since stopped trying to halt her cousin’s disgusting habit.

“Maybe I’ll try one more week?” Elide drummed her fingers on her leg.

“Don’t be a dumbass, you already have a C. Go talk to him. Maybe he isn’t that bad. He’s definitely not hard on the eyes. If it doesn’t turn out to be fruitful, you can just sleep with him. ” Elide rolled her eyes, but Manon pointed the butter knife at her.

“She’s got a point. About all of it, he’s definitely… attractive.” Elide groaned, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She was definitely not willing to sacrifice her academic integrity for _one_ grade.

“There better be take-out here by the time I get back. Drunken noodles, please,” she shouted as she walked out the door. She heard Manon mutter something about the time, but Elide just tugged the door closed, zipped her sweatshirt and headed into the fresh air of Bloomington. It wasn’t close to dark yet, but they’d hit the beginning of the tipping point between summer and fall. The chill wasn’t terrible at four in the afternoon—maybe it was a little early for dinner—but Elide could feel the nip of the air beginning. In a couple weeks, it’d be time to pull out her long underwear. She’d wear them under her clothes until March. Elide walked as fast as she could across campus to catch Mr. Salvaterre before the end of his office hours: five thirty.

She found it with little hassle. Elide knocked on the door, then crossed her arms to wait for it to open. It took a couple of seconds, and Elide raised her fist to knock again before the door swung in to reveal the tawny skin of Mr. Salvaterre. His expression was somber as ever.

“Ballerina,” he almost growled. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He leaned against the doorframe, one arm still resting against the door. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to reveal his forearms, which were flexed in a _relatively_ attractive manner. Not that Elide noticed. She ducked under the arm he had braced against the door.

It turned out that his “office” was more of a broom closet in the literature building. Elide looked around, cataloguing the room. Most of it was taken up with the two bookcases kept behind the small desk. Elide was immediately drawn to them, and she pulled out the first title she found: Moliere of some sort. She opened the play to find all French text, save for the writing in the margins.

“So you really have read all the books in French.” She turned back around, the book still in her hand. His brows were furrowed even more than normal. A brooding prince.

“Of course I have. Why would I lie?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“To seem more qualified than you are.”

“I’m incredibly qualified.”

Elide turned her intention to the collection of papers strewn about his desk. It looked nearly impossible to find anything. She thought she spotted the Sunday comics stuffed under a few papers. She raised an eyebrow.

“Sure.” She turned back to the bookshelf and continued browsing the titles until he cleared his throat.

“Are you just here to challenge my credibility? I have much better things I could be doing, like grading your paper for example.” Elide spun again.

“About that. I need help. I’m having a little bit of a hard time in this class.”

“There’s a group tutor and walk-in sessions—“ Elide cut him off.

“Yeah, see, they’re bad.”

“None of the other students have complained.” He crossed his arms across his chest and Elide struggled not to notice the flexing of his muscles.

“They’re all pus— I’m not other students. I want you to help me.”

“I don’t have time to—“

“Bullshit you don’t have time. How many students have come in to your office hours? I’m guessing… four over the whole semester? I bet you have _plenty_ of time, Mr. Salvaterre,” she paused, “unless you have to be back at the club. Your break dancing career looks very promising.” She cocked an eyebrow as she waited for his response. He tensed his jaw, and a vein in his neck popped out just slightly.

“Fine,” he grumbled. Elide smiled triumphantly.

“Tuesdays and Fridays at four, in here. Every week until you make an A. Then we’ll talk about what else you need.”

“ _Friday?_ Do you have absolutely no life? God, I hope I never get old.” He scowled again.

“I’m only twenty-three. See you on Friday. Now get out of my office.” Elide rolled her eyes and ducked past him, pulling her hood over her ears and stuffing her hands into her pockets. _Asshole_.


	4. Chapter 4

Her tutoring with Mr. Salvaterre—who had _insisted_ she call him Lorcan—had little to no effect on her grade in French Lit. At least she was now pulling a solid C+. For the millionth time, she was overwhelmingly grateful that her grades didn’t get sent home to Vernon; since she was technically financing her own schooling. Elide couldn’t wait until she graduated and was out of her uncles clutches for good. Really she couldn’t wait until her 21st birthday, when she’d finally be able to access her trust fund that her parents had filled before passing away. Vernon had found a way to use all of the money from their will meant for her, but he would never touch that trust fund.

“Oi, Ballerina, are you listening?” Elide shook her head to clear it and looked back down at the page of text. She grimaced when she realized she hadn’t heard a single thing he’d said in the past few minutes. 

“Sorry,” she mumbled. He groaned lightly, but leaned back over the book. They’d stopped meeting in his cramped office, which he’d told her was a condition of him accepting to be a TA for this year. Apparently the university had really wanted him to teach a class. The library was way roomier anyway, and had much more effective heating. He was sitting next to her, and Elide could feel the heat radiating off of his beat-up down jacket. It seemed that the nicest clothes he owned were a handful of button-down shirts and a couple pairs of slacks, and those were reserved for when he was teaching.

“Think of it like poetry, 18th century stuff was written in that style. Each paragraph, or stanza, connects by some overarching theme.” Elide looked up at him sheepishly.

“I hate poetry, and I hate analyzing it even more.” He dropped his face into his hand. It was slightly passed five, one more hour of tutoring to go that night. Lorcan shoved his hair out of his face and stood, shoving his books into his bag.

“Get your shit, we’re going on a field trip.” Elide slid her book off the table, slinging her coat over her shoulders, and pulling the hat over her ears. She was grateful for the leg stretch, and the change in curriculum. 

Lorcan led her across campus, through freezing rain, towards the performing arts complex.

“Where are you taking me?” He didn’t even turn to look at her.

“Shut up. Pick up the pace, I’m freezing my ass off.” Elide grumbled and blew a strand of hair out of her face, making sure not to remove her hands from her pockets. When they reached the complex, Lorcan did not hold the door for her. 

“Dick,” she muttered under her breath.

“Heard that.” Elide only chuckled. Lorcan jerked his head to signal for them to keep moving. He started leading her towards some of the musicians’ practice rooms and… the dance studios.

“Lorcan, what are you doing?”

He pulled a keychain out of his pocket and started fishing through keys until he found one and stopped in front of one of the studio doors.

“ _Shit_ , how do you have that key?” Elide tried to convey a shouting-tone even as her voice diminished to a whisper. Lorcan did not respond, only jammed the key into the lock and twisted it. It was definitely the right key. The door swung open and he turned to the right to flick on a few of the lights.

“Why are we here?” Elide hadn’t stepped foot in a dance studio since her summer job had ended, and she wasn’t intending to do it for the rest of her life.

“You ask a lot of questions. None about literature, though.”

“Literature is boring. I’d like to know if you’re kidnapping me.” Lorcan scoffed.

“I’m not kidnapping you. You’re too annoying.”

“Then why _are_ we here? And how do you have a key?” He finally turned to face her while he was slipping off his shoes. He nodded at her to do the same and she rolled her eyes before pulling off her off-brand Uggs.

“I teach a hip-hop class for kids on the weekends. That’s how I have a key. We are _here_ , because I need to find a way to get into your head. Don’t try and tell me that you aren’t a dancer; I cleaned up around here last year so that I could have a cheaper rental for my class. I saw you walking out of classes and coming in to rehearse sometimes. I won’t ask you why you stopped, or whatever, or why you changed your major, but you are damn-well a dancer, and we’re going to use it.”

Elide paused before responding.

“You like kids?” Lorcan looked up at her.

“No.” He moved onto the floor and started… stretching. She had to admit; it looked a little funny to see his giant body bent over the floor. Elide decided not to ask any other questions. Lorcan stood to face her.

“The lit we’re reading, it’s like a dance,” Elide scoffed, “hear me out. Each phrase conveys an emotion, gives insight to what the author or narrator is thinking. When you go see _Nutcracker_ , they aren’t explaining to you the story. You’re normally too far away to see Clara’s face, unlike in a play. So the way she _moves_ tells you how she feels. You _should_ read into it.” He paused and took a couple of steps away from her. “Tell me what you see.” Elide raised her eyebrows, dumbfounded until Lorcan started to move.

Pique turn, chasse, pas de jambes. Her lit professor knew _ballet_. Elide had to blink a few times before she could process what she was seeing. A leap there, a pirouette. He was breathing hard by the time he stopped. They just stared at one another for a minute before he pulled off his sweatshirt, revealing a _very_ tight t-shirt. Elide couldn’t speak.

“Well?” Elide had to clear her throat. She couldn’t stop gaping at him.

“You were… upset. Longing, maybe.” He smiled faintly.

“Good. Your turn.” Elide’s eyes widened.

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can, Ballerina.”

“I’m _not_ a ballerina.”

“Elide, come on. I won’t make fun of you for being a Bun Head or anything.”

“I said _no_ , Lorcan.” She was almost shouting at him now. He backed up a step.

“Okay. I guess we’re done for today.” He gathered his grey sweatshirt from the floor and started walking towards their bags. Elide was breathing hard from the brief panic she’d felt. She was still facing the opposite wall, listen to Lorcan pack his things.

“I fell,” she said. Lorcan’s rustling stopped.

“What?”

“Last spring. I fell during a dress rehearsal and broke my ankle. Career-shattering injury, at least for me. I could have treated it, could have maybe danced again.” 

“Why didn’t you do it?” He said quietly.

“My uncle. He refused to pay for a surgery that wasn’t completely necessary. The doctors said they could set it in a cast and it’d heal fine, but ballet would be out of the picture. That’s why I don’t dance anymore, why I _can’t_.” A tear started to run down her face, but she wiped it away quickly. 

“Oh,” he mumbled.

“Yeah.” Elide turned and grabbed her belongings as fast as she could, not bothering to put her jacket on. She left the studio without another look back.

“I’ll see you Friday?” Lorcan shouted down the hall. Elide shot him a thumbs up and pushed her wait into the rain, finally slinging her jacket on. When she finally made it outside, she felt like she was in shock. Why had she told him that? He didn’t need to know. But at the same time, she felt like some sort of weight had been lifted off her chest. Like saying it out loud helped, like it freed her, just a fraction of an inch. The asshole better not spoil that feeling.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this has taken so long! It's also a pretty short chapter, and I apologize for that as well. I'm hoping to bang out an extra long chapter that is winter-y/holiday themed soon, or I'll try and split that into two chapters posted close together. 
> 
> As always, feedback is much appreciated. Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> (This fic can also be found on my tumblr. warriorlorcan.tumblr.com/tagged/devil and the dancer )

Elide didn’t go to see Lorcan on Friday, contrary to her casual thumbs up. She could barely even drag herself out of bed to go to his class. She hadn’t talked about dancing with anyone since the accident, not even Manon. She didn’t know if she’d said the word ballet in months. The realization of her injury had hit her hard. Obviously, Elide had known she wouldn’t dance again, but she’d never _felt_ it the way she had after she’d screamed at Lorcan. It wasn’t that she would never dance again, really. It was that she could never dance again. She was just the broken shell of an almost-ballerina.

She ditched the next few tutoring sessions leading up to finals week and silently prayed that whatever God was out there would lend her some mercy and let her get at least a decent grade on her French Lit final. It was sure to be brutal, knowing Lorcan, and she needed at least a B to keep her grade above failing. That being said, Elide had decided that praying was all she needed to do.

She didn’t bother studying for the exam. Elide figured that if she couldn’t analyze 1700s lit before classes ended, she wouldn’t learn it at all. It was a hopeless case, and there was no way she would go to see Lorcan again.

She went into the test blind. She made sure to write herself a mental note to complain about the exam, and the fact of it not being an essay, to Lorcan. Whenever she deigned to talk to him again. If she ever did. She blew a strand of hair out of her face and tucked herself further into her scarf, pulling open the doors to the old building. It seemed like it was even colder inside, and Elide stuffed her hands into her pockets. She hated the Midwest. There was no purpose to the bitter cold out here in the middle of nowhere.

She sauntered into class a good few minutes late, but Lorcan was never there on time, so she walked slowly to her seat. The test booklets were already laid out on each of the small desks, and Elide’s heart started to drum a little faster. She didn’t like tests, never had. She’d never done well on them, and they gave her severe anxiety some of the time. Elide closed her dark eyes as she slid into her seat and set her fingers on the inside of her wrist, feeling her pulse beat underneath them. _This test wasn’t a big deal. She’d be fine. She could just ask Lorcan for extra credit if she really did terribly._  

Elide scoffed to herself at the idea and let her eyes flutter open. Lorcan was walking into the room, a dark coat sheathing his giant body. Her heart sped up again, but she attributed it to the blank booklet still looming in front of her. His now-short hair was sticking up at odd angles, probably from pulling a hat off. It made him look younger, less stony. Cute. Her cheeks heated briefly. She cleared her throat. 

“You have two hours. You may begin,” he said, his deep voice booming throughout the hall.

~

 The first half of the test flew by. The assortment of questions about the time period and brief classifications of works was no problem for her, and it never had been during the semester. Six pages into the booklet, Elide felt her heart beginning to pound and her stomach twisted over on itself several times. These were not good butterflies.

_What did Voltaire intend when writing this passage of Candide?_

Elide couldn’t breathe. It was like her throat was closing up, like the answers were caught down in her still-tumbling stomach. She picked up her pencil. She pressed it down so hard the lead broke off and she had to force out new graphite. Her hand was trembling. She dropped her pencil, closing her eyes and setting her hand against her wrist again, to feel her pulse. Slowly, she felt everything fade away. No more chairs, no more risers with students seated across them, no more desk at the front of the room. Just a stage 

She could see herself on it, the faint ballet smile present on her face. Eyebrows even darker than normal, hair slicked back sharply, red lipstick and dark eye makeup. _What did Voltaire intend when writing this passage of Candide?_ Elide didn’t know, but this now-foreign ballerina did. Elide watched with wide eyes as her mirror self leapt across the stage, every emotion transparent through her movements.

_What did Voltaire intend?_ She smiled, and opened her eyes. There were a few places on her paper that looked like they’d been dripped on. She brought a hand to her cheek and found it damp. _Jesus Christ,_ _she was a wimp_. Elide chuckled to herself briefly, and pressed her pencil back to the paper.

~

Elide was the last person to finish the test. The rest of the class had already left, most finished within the hour. Her fantasy had cost her time, but had saved her in the long run. She’d flown through the last portion of the test, her mirror-self guiding her through the emotions and intentions behind each passage. Lorcan was sitting on the edge of the desk while she was leaving. Elide thought he looked like a tool.

“Are you okay?” Lorcan’s voice rumbled. Elide barely looked up at him.

 “Of course. See you next semester. Thanks for all the help.” She tugged her hat down over her ears, and pulled her phone out of her pocket to text Manon that she’d be home soon and was in desperate need of some hot cocoa. Manon informed her that there was no need to label it as hot, as there was no _cold_ cocoa.

 “Elide,” he muttered. She spun around. Her phone still in one hand, a pair of thin gloves hanging from the other.

 “Yes?” Lorcan moved from his perch to stand in front of her. She had to tilt her head back at the neck to be able to look into his eyes. She didn’t want to be looking into his eyes.

 “You were crying.” Elide rolled her eyes.

“I know.” Why had he been watching her that closely? She sat near the back of the hall. She looked away from him.

 “Why?” Elide smiled sadly and let her eyes wander back to his.

“I was dancing.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a while. I've written another chapter that's ready to post, so maybe I will once it's the new year (!!!). As always, comments are welcome! (this is unedited, so if there are any mistakes i'm worry)

Manon wouldn’t stop drumming her fingernails against the counter. Elide tried to ignore the _tap, tap, tap_ -ing of keratin hitting marble, but even with ear buds in, she could still hear the phantom noise. She clenched her fist. Manon did not stop. 

“Could you quit that?” Manon looked up briefly, one fingernail clenched between her teeth. She ripped a piece of it off before responding to Elide.

“Why?” Elide rolled her eyes.

“Because it’s annoying as hell, and I’m trying to relax.” She grabbed one of her legs and held it up in the air from where she was sitting on the couch so that Manon could see her fuzzy socks and sweatpants. Manon narrowed her eyes.

“Well, you’ll get your fair share of quiet once Asterin gets her ass out here so we can get going.”

“So you won’t stop?” Elide pressed. Manon looked away from her again, training her gaze on the door that would soon open to behold Asterin.

 “Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p’. Elide groaned internally. Why couldn’t her roommate just cut her obscenely long nails? They were already longer than most fake nails, and were disgusting to everyone that saw them. But Manon had never been the type of person to do things because others wanted her to. Elide hunkered herself further into the plush couch and tossed a pillow over her head.

She was starting to drift into sleep before someone plucked the pillow out from on top of her. Their living room was much brighter than she remembered, and she had to blink a few times and squint to see Asterin standing over her.

“You didn’t think we’d leave without making you say goodbye, did you?” The blonde sounded chirpy, but Elide knew she felt bad about leaving their third roommate behind. She stood up, briefly mourning the warmth the couch brought her as she was struck by the cold drafting through the living room. She took one look at Asterin’s face and saw the concern veiled behind her smile. Elide rolled her eyes.

“I’ll be fine. I know how to handle myself.”

“I know you do,” Asterin said, pulling Elide into a hug. “Just promise me you’ll hang out with other kids who are staying. You can’t stay holed up in this ugly apartment for three weeks.” 

“You got it, Mom.” Asterin pushed her lightly as she pulled away and stepped aside for Manon. She didn’t hug Elide. 

“If you need anything, you call us. I don’t care what it is, or when, but you call us. We can be here in half an hour.” Her face was deathly serious and she didn’t stop staring at Elide until she met her eyes. Elide nodded and Manon looked away, nodding to herself and grabbing her coat off the back of a chair. 

The two girls grabbed the last of their things and Elide helped them shuttle them down to the waiting Uber. She stood against the threshold of their building and watched as the last suitcase was stuffed into the trunk. Asterin rolled down her window to wave at Elide. 

“Merry Christmas!” Elide laughed a little and raised her eyebrows at her roommate. “Oops, sorry!” She said after a brief moment. “Happy Hanukkah!”

Elide couldn’t help but smile at the correction and happily waved as the blue Prius pulled away. She was excited to have the next few weeks alone. She had no intention of fulfilling her promise to Asterin, but her computer and the new season of _Orange is the New Black_ were calling and she was helpless not to answer.

~

 As much of a loner as she was, and as she enjoyed being, after a week and a half alone, Elide was starting to go a bit stir crazy. She hadn’t done any laundry without Manon or Asterin nagging at her to do theirs, too, and she was wearing the same pair of pants from 6 days ago. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a shower was. Probably recently enough, since she didn’t smell. But that could also have been because she hadn’t removed herself from the couch except to get into her bed.

Elide ran a hand through her hair and pulled out her phone. There were three missed texts from Manon.

_Have you left the apartment?_

_Asterin is making me do this._

_You can at least reply._

Elide rolled her eyes and typed out a thumbs-up emoji. Manon wouldn’t be please, but she couldn’t be bothered to write anything else. She went back to sleep.

~

Saturday arrived and Elide figured she had to at least do something. She dragged herself out of bed, put on real clothes and walked to campus. It was virtually empty over break and she found it oddly comforting. It was like all the stress of the school year had taken a halt. She didn’t have to worry, no one did.

Elide wandered aimlessly for a while, no direction in mind. Before long, she found herself in front of the Performing Arts building. She stood in the cold for at least ten minutes, her chin ducked into the collar of her coat, the old faux fur hood pulled up over her head. Elide squeezed her eyes shut briefly and held her breath before letting it all out in a long blow and inching the doors open.

Some buildings weren’t open over the holidays, but people were always in the studios or preparing for something in this building. Elide trailed her hands along the concrete walls. The doors to the stages were all locked, so she kept going. She passed the practice rooms intended for instrumental students, the offices of staff. She didn’t stop walking until she heard the music coming from one of the studios.

Elide couldn’t decipher much, but the pounding bass clued her in to the genre. She’d never liked hip-hop, but it couldn’t hurt to look in. She pulled off her hood in order to press her face to the sliver of glass that showed the floor. It was full of kids. None of them were moving; their eyes were all trained on something slightly in front of them. Elide had to adjust her position in order to see in front of the children. What she saw didn’t shock her as much as she felt it should have. 

Lorcan was standing downstage of the hoard, his body jerking around as he demonstrated something. When he finished, he looked up and she could swear their eyes met in the mirror. Elide drew in a sharp breath. In her struggle to get away, she tripped on a stray shoelace and slammed against the door with her hands, catching herself just before her head hit. If Lorcan hadn’t known she was there before, he surely did now.

The music shut off and Elide groaned, stepping back from the door. She rubbed her hands together, trying to stop the sharp pain. She did her best to get as far away from the door and down the hall as she could, but Lorcan stepped out and called to her.

“Elide,” he wasn’t even shouting, his deep voice just carried. “Are you alright?”

 “Mmm-hmm,” she hummed. Her voice sounded high-pitched. She tried again, clearing her throat first. “Yep. All good.” Better. He lingered for a minute, the two of them standing in silence.

“Do you,” he coughed, “do you want to come in?” Elide opened her mouth to decline, but he stopped her. “There are only 20 minutes left of class. It might be… beneficial.”

Elide couldn’t deny that she was curious how this big, brute of a man dealt with young children. She didn’t answer him, only marched towards the door and slid through the threshold under his arm.

All the kids were sitting now, in two perfect lines, their hands in their laps. _Good to see he’s still got a stick up his ass_. Lorcan passed her in two short strides, standing in front of his class.

“Do you guys wanna show Elide what we’ve been working on?” Lorcan didn’t seem to talk to these seven-year-olds much differently than he talked to his twenty- and twenty-one-year-olds. His voice was still harsh, but with a hint of hidden kindness that wasn’t present in his Lit class. The kids nodded eagerly, standing from the floor and taking up some kind of stance. Lorcan gestured for Elide to join him at the front of the class.

 “I don’t know anything about hip-hop,” she said, leaning over to him slightly. Lorcan looked her straight in the eyes.

“Then watch closely. You might learn something.” He turned away quickly, but Elide smiled. He’d just made a joke. This was proving to be a very strange day. The giant pressed a button on the remote in his hand and the music started. Each of the kids let their heads fall to a limp position, all their weight on their right legs. The bass started pounding and the first line of kids jerked. On the next beat, the second line followed.

Elide still didn’t understand how a group of people could collapse and shake their bodies in such unison, not to mention the fact that these kids were likely all in elementary school still. About a minute and a half into the song, Lorcan paused the music again and the kids erupted, laughing and talking with one another. Elide couldn’t move.

 She felt Lorcan’s eyes on her, but kept her vision trained in front of her, watching the raucous group.

“So?” His voice was much closer than she expected.

“You taught them how to do that?”

“Obviously.” Elide rolled her eyes.

 “How old are they?”

 “Most are eight, a few are already nine.” Elide nodded. She’d been close in her guess.

“They’re good.” Lorcan nodded. “Where do they come from?” He shrugged.

“All over, I guess. Most of them are foster kids or come over from the group home a few blocks away. The rest come from wherever.” Elide started playing with her fingers, picking at her nails. She didn’t know if she should comment.

“How much do you charge for a class like this? It’s what? An hour? Two?”

“Hour and a half. And I don’t. Charge, I mean. Not for this class.” Elide raised her eyebrows.

 “How do you pay for the studio time, then? Out of pocket?”

“I have two more classes. I overcharge for them, just so I get to keep enough to keep myself in grad school and pay for an extra hour and a half of time.”

“So you _do_ have a heart after all.” 

“What do you mean?”

“You’re teaching a free class for orphans. I can tell you’re a big softie, don’t try and hide it.”

“I just would have really liked something like this growing up,” he shrugged again, “It’s no big deal, really. I have the extra time.” Elide snorted.

“No one coming in for office hours?”

“Not since you stopped.” She cleared her throat awkwardly.

“Maybe it’s because you’re prickly.” Lorcan raised his eyebrows and bumped his shoulder into hers slightly.

“Alright guys, two more times and then you’re out of here.”

~

Elide stayed for the rest of class and afterwards to help Lorcan clean up a bit. She busied herself with spraying the mirror with glass cleaner, wiping off the dry-erase marker Lorcan had used to write something out for his students. They worked in silence, not even music was playing. 

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, breaking the silence. 

“For what?” Lorcan was on the other side of the studio, sweeping the floor where all the kids had left their shoes.

“Not coming back. To tutoring.”

 “You don’t have to apologize for that. I shouldn’t have pushed you to dance.” 

“It just… sucks. It really sucks. It was my entire life for so long, and now I can’t ever do it again.” It was silent for a while. Elide wiped down the last mirror, and she heart Lorcan picking up the pair of mittens that had been left. She stood staring at herself in the quiet, cataloguing the dark curve of her brows (which needed a waxing soon), and the shock of black hair pulled into a braid. 

“You know,” Lorcan paused, “ballet isn’t the only kind of dancing. I know Pointe is out of the question, but… That’s not all there is.”

“It’s all I’ve ever done,” Elide said sadly.

“Come to the club with me tonight.” She raised an eyebrow at the request.

“Why?” Elide could have sworn she saw the ghost of a smile on Lorcan’s lips. 

“I told you: you might learn something.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am weak, and had to post this early. I'll try and write chapter 8 today. Is there anything you guys want to see? Any predictions? I love to hear from you all!

Lorcan took her to the same club she’d gone to with Asterin, where she’d seen him for the first time. It was slightly less packed than it had been, and it was definitely less sweaty. He hadn’t even given her time to get a drink, just pulled her onto the dance floor and signaled to the DJ. Elide rolled her eyes at that.

The woman had switched songs almost immediately, and Elide was surprised to find that he didn’t hate the electronic beat pulsing through her.

He started just bobbing to the beat of the music, gesturing for her to do the same. She did as he bid. Lorcan kept his eyes on the floor, her feet really, but Elide kept hers on him. His hair was longer than it had been at the beginning of the semester, just falling a little bit over his eyes. He’d cut the sides off slightly, but the top was almost long enough to fit into a small ponytail. It was dark, and curlier than she’d originally thought.

Every time he swallowed, she could see his Adam’s apple bob. She found it more attractive than she should have. He looked up at her and she fought the urge to look away, staring him down instead. Lorcan switched into a step-touch and Elide followed suit. He nodded at her and started swinging his body with each step side to side. She was sure she looked like an idiot, but she did her best to copy his movements.

The rest of the night continued mostly that way, though Lorcan did stop to get himself a beer. Elide told him she didn’t need anything, but he bought her something with a very small percentage of alcohol and a lot of something fruity in it. It was disgusting, but she’d never tell him that. She’d probably rather have something straight than the monstrosity in a fancy glass he’d shoved into her hands.

Lorcan was obviously a much better dancer than she was in regards to hip-hop, or whatever it was they were doing, but she had fun. She didn’t have to think too much. No worrying about keeping her core engaged, her tailbone tucked in just the right amount. She just had to feel the beat and try not to make an absolute fool of herself.

Elide felt her phone buzz in her pocket and pulled it out to find Manon’s pale face glaring back at her from the photo Elide had uploaded. She groaned. Surprisingly enough, she didn’t want to leave. The call went to voicemail and she saw that there were two missed calls from Asterin and another three from Manon. She leaned across to Lorcan.

“I have to go.” She waved at him and turned towards the door, but he followed her. He was close enough that his chest was nearly touching her back as he talked into her ear.

“I’ll go with you.” Elide was going to tell him that he didn’t need to, but he slid his hand onto the small of her back briefly and she promptly decided that if he wanted to freeze his ass off outside, he was surely welcome to join her.

 “Thanks,” she muttered, though she wasn’t sure if he could hear her. They both slid their coats back on and pushed the door open to brave the Indiana cold. Lorcan waited as Elide zipped her coat all the way and pulled on her gloves. She gestured to the street west of the club.

“I’m this way.” He nodded again. They walked most of the short way in silence, which seemed to be a natural state for the two of them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. They both kept to their own thoughts.

“I thought you said no bun heads allowed in there,” Elide said finally, breaking the silence. She jerked her head back in the direction of the club.

“Yeah well… Maybe you aren’t just a bun head.” Elide laughed a little.

“You think so?”

“You didn’t completely flop out there. And it was fun, wasn’t it?” Elide nodded. “That’s what dancing should be. It’s not a career for everyone, but it should always be fun.” Lorcan slid his hands into his pockets. Elide came to a stop in front of her apartment.

“Thank you. For all of it. The tutoring, the club, everything. It _did_ feel good to do something again.” She smiled faintly.

 “It really wasn’t a problem.” Elide nodded, waiting awkwardly on the front steps to see if he would say anything else. He didn’t. She took matters into her own hands.

“Do you have a phone?” Lorcan looked up.

“Why wouldn’t I have a phone?”

“I don’t know, you seem like the kind of guy who wouldn’t have a phone out of spite or something. It’s the dark-and-brooding thing, I think.” Lorcan blew air out of his nose and Elide thought it might be the closest to a laugh she’d ever get from him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed it to her, as if to prove that he did, in fact, have one.

“Give it to me.”

“Why?”

“So I can put my number in it.” She rolled her eyes. He mumbled an _oh_ and handed it over. _No pass code_ , she noted. He probably didn’t know how to put one on it. She chuckled a little bit to herself as she input her number.

“It’s under Elide, in case you forgot that my name isn’t ‘ballerina.’” He took the phone from her.

“Thanks, it can get a little confusing.” Another joke. Maybe he wasn’t so rock-hard after all. 

“I was just thinking that maybe we could do something like this again. Or at least I’ll have your number so I can bug you about French Lit again next semester.” Lorcan pressed his lips together in something that looked vaguely like a smile. It was quiet for a second. “Okay,” she said, and walked up the stairs to the front stoop. He didn’t stop her. Elide found herself slightly disappointed by that.

When she unlocked the front door, she was surprised to see her roommates sitting together at the countertop. They whipped around and both let out audible sighs when they noticed it was her. Then the flood started.

“Where were you?”

“I was—Asterin was worried sick!”

“I called you like 5 _million_ times!”

“She thought something had happened to you!”

“Answer your goddamn phone next time, that _is_ what a phone is for!”

Elide help up a hand to stop them.

“Everything is fine. Why are you guys here?” Manon picked something up from the counter.

“We brought you a Hanukkah present.” She was blushing a little bit.

“Where were you?” Asterin repeated. Elide waved her hand in the air, as if to say it was no big deal. 

“The club,” she muttered, bracing herself for the backlash.

“ _What?”_ Elide shrugged.

“I went with Lorcan, he—“

“ _Lorcan?_ ” Asterin said, cutting her off. “Your hot TA Lorcan?” Now _Elide_ was blushing.

“Yep.”

“You went on a date with your TA?”

“It wasn’t a _date_. I just was watching one of his hip-hop classes and he invited me out afterwards. No big deal, I swear.”

“He teaches hip-hop?” Manon asked at the same time Asterin blurted, “Sounds like a date to me.” 

Elide pointed to Manon.

“Yes,” she moved her finger to Asterin, “No.” She just shrugged.

“So what, he just bought you a drink?”

“No, we were, uh, he was teaching me to dance. Or something.” The cousins stopped short.

“You were dancing?” Manon’s clear voice rang through the silence.

“It’s not like that’s _real_ dancing or anything, just some step-touching and—“

“Oh my _God!_ ” Asterin practically shrieked as she tackled her dark haired friend. Elide had no idea either of them would be pleased, she hadn’t even recognized the significance of dancing again, whether or not it was classical technique. She let Asterin hug her. She felt Manon’s hand gently patting her back. Asterin was laughing, and something like a smile was pulled across Manon’s face. Elide couldn’t help but grin, too.

Too soon, they pulled away from one another.

“Come on, open it,” Asterin said, grabbing the small box from the counter. It was black, tied simply with a blue ribbon.

“I was gonna get you guys something before you came back, but I haven’t yet.”

“Who cares? Open it!” 

Elide started pulling off the ribbon, but Manon interjected.

“We ordered it a long time ago… if you don’t like it we can get something else or—“ Elide shushed her as she lifted the lid off the box.

Tears welled in her eyes and she let out a gasp as she looked carefully at the golden necklace lying on the black cushion. The tiny Pointe shoe was suspended on either side by the thin, golden chain. At the back, attached to the clasp, was a small sliver of gold, engraved with three letters. M. A. E. Manon, Asterin, Elide.

She reached out a finger to trace the golden shoe.

“If you don’t want it, I mean, if it’s too much of a reminder, we can—“ Elide shook her head and Manon shut up. 

“Thank you,” she said, her voice tight as she held in tears. She didn’t know if they were of joy or heartache. “I love it. Thank you so much.”

Asterin hugged her again, and this time Manon joined. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t dance anymore at that moment; all that mattered was that she had. She had danced, she had met the two girls in her arms, and she knew that one day she’d be something else, equally as great as a ballerina.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for bearing with me and not hating that I don't consistently update, it means so much to me that anyone is reading this at all.

Manon and Asterin left the next morning, and Elide barely bothered to get out of bed for their departure. It seemed that Asterin was much less reluctant to leave knowing that Elide had at least left the apartment, and she dragged Manon along with her. All three of them were incredibly groggy after spending a night watching various movies that they found on Netflix, but Elide hadn’t been happier in a while. Things finally felt _normal_ , or at least as normal as they could feel without Pointe shoes on her feet.

When she’d finally pulled herself from her toasty bed into the kitchen, poured herself an English breakfast tea and fried an egg, she checked her phone. There were three texts, one from Manon and Asterin each, wishing her a happy new year and telling her they missed her already (the latter was infinitely more apparent in Asterin’s text), and one from an unknown number.

_Norvelle Center, 4 pm_

Elide smiled, knowing the text was from Lorcan. She peeked at the clock, hoping four was much closer than it seemed. It was only noon. Elide sighed. Well… maybe if she took an extra long shower and blow-dried her hair and put on real clothes for a change, there wouldn’t be much more waiting after all that.

She showered for so long that the hot water ran out, which Elide noticed with a shriek as she frantically washed the conditioner out of her hair. Her blow drier was broken, so she spent close to half an hour searching for Asterin’s (which she found under the sink). Most of Elide’s clothes were dirty since she’d been too lazy to dump them in the washing machine the cousins had gotten at the beginning of the year. She ended up wriggling into a pair of old leggings that she’d mostly forgotten about, or thought she’d lost, briefly mourning the fact that they were slightly tighter than they had been the last time she’d worn them, and slipped on a white shirt that fell a quarter of the way down her thighs and hung off her body.

Elide glanced back at the clock again, and cursed loudly to herself. It was already 3:50, and it took at least 15 minutes to walk across campus to Norvelle, the performing arts center. She yanked on a pair of sneakers and grabbed a sweatshirt, forgetting to lock the door as she ran downstairs. Much to her chagrin, it was snowing buckets outside. Elide groaned and jogged back up the stairs, exchanging her tennis shoes for a pair of fake Uggs she’d bought a couple of years ago, and throwing on a down coat over her sweatshirt. She contemplated a hat, but pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt instead, this time locking the door as she left.

3:55. She could make it, if she ran. Elide clenched her lips together and started jogging across campus, her hands tucked into her pockets. Her hair kept falling in her face, but she didn’t really care.

Elide didn’t know why it was so important to her to meet Lorcan on time, but it was, and she’d be damned if she didn’t try her hardest to make it happen.

She made it to the Norvelle center in what was probably record time: seven minutes and fifty-two seconds. She’d only slipped once, but caught herself before she hit the ground and continued running. Elide was still late to meet Lorcan, but only by a few minutes. She was sure her hair was sticking to the back of her neck and she looked like an absolute wreck, but as she walked into the Norvelle center, she finally felt like she belonged there again.

The music cascading out from Lorcan’s studio was slow, no pulsing beat behind it. She slid the door open and saw a group of what looked to be pre-teens stretching. She couldn’t help the smile that slid across her face when she saw Lorcan leading the group. She kicked off her shoes and went to sit by him, not saying a word but pulling her legs into a middle split and stretching forward. Thankfully, Asterin and Manon had forced her to stretch daily, even after her ankle. Manon had told her it would make her stronger, but Asterin just wiggled her eyebrows and said that flexibility wasn’t only good for ballet.

Lorcan touched one of the hands she had spread out in front of her briefly, but recoiled as if it hand burned him. Elide did her best not to be upset. She turned her head and smiled at him, then sat up to pull her hair into a bun. She pulled it tight, like she would have for ballet, and was almost relieved by the feeling, her skin seeming to pull tighter over her face. She felt a tug at the back of her neck and looked over to see Lorcan holding a strand of her hair that she’d left out. She blushed a little, though she didn’t know why, and took the hair from him, fitting it into her bun before she tied it with two ponytail holders.

He stood abruptly, and Elide followed suit, brushing off the back of her leggings. He went to change the music and Elide leaned up against the mirror.

“Okay, circle up. Five minutes of freestyle, you know the drill. Try something new, try something together. Everyone goes in.” The kids did as they were told, and once the music started one of them hopped into the center of the circle, popping and locking and whatever else hip-hop entailed. Lorcan came to stand by her.

“You look,” he coughed, “very nice.”

Elide scoffed.

“Lorcan, I’m essentially wearing pajamas.”

“Well, it looks good,” he snapped. Elide was silent for a moment.

“Thank you.” More silence as they watched the kids. She heard Lorcan open his mouth to speak, but close it again. She drummed her fingers against her thigh.

“So, I was thinking,” Lorcan started.

“That’s a first,” she said, grinning. He rolled his eyes. It made him look younger for some reason.

“I was _thinking_ ,” he continued, “that you could do some barre with them.” His voice tilted upwards at the end, like a question. Elide’s eyes narrowed and darkened, her whole body going rigid.

“No, thank you,” she said quietly. He inched closer to her, so that she could feel his arm against hers. He looked over at her and Elide felt the weight of his gaze firmly on her face.

“These kids don’t get ballet, most of them. The classes are even more expensive than what I overcharge for this one.”

“I can’t, Lorcan.”

“You can’t be en Pointe. But did the doctor say anything about a simple barre class? It’s probably _good_ for you. The second anything hurts, you can stop, no questions asked.”

“Lorcan—“ She said, letting out a breath.

“Please,” he mumbled, brushing her hand, which was lying against the glass of the mirror, with his. She looked over at him, looking up into his eyes.

“I’m not a very good teacher. You’ll regret this,” she said, pushing herself off from the mirror just as the music cut off.

The kids folded off into two lines once the music stopped. For a hip-hop instructor, Lorcan had trained them well.

“I’m Elide.”

“We know,” said one of the girls. She was smaller than the others, her hair bright red. Elide raised an eyebrow. “Lorcan told us about you.” She shrugged. Elide turned around to give Lorcan a suspicious look. He looked away, though she thought she saw the tip of his ear turn just a little pinker. She smiled a little and turned back to the kids.

“Alright, then. Three barres, four to each.”

~

Lorcan handed her her coat once class was over, shooing the kids out the door as he slid his own shoes on.

“Thank you. For making me come.” Lorcan smiled faintly and nodded.

“They liked it, no matter how much they complained.” She chuckled faintly, scuffing one of her boots against the floor.

“I’m glad you texted.”

“I’m glad you came. You’re welcome to any of my classes, all three of them. I might pick up a fourth when the semester starts, but we’ll see. It’s not like anyone is coming to office hours anymore, so I’ll have a lot of free time—“

“No, you won’t.” He looked up at her.

“Why not?”

“You’ll be hanging out with _me,_ loser. I thought you promised to teach me how to hip-hop?”

“I did no such thing. And don’t say it like that, it sounds weird.” Elide laughed and slung her coat on.

“I’ll see you soon, then.”

“Do you want to get dinner?” Elide turned to face Lorcan.

“It’s a little early, don’t you think?” He shrugged.

“Better for the metabolism.” She laughed again, and Lorcan smiled faintly, the most she thought he’d ever give her.

“Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Yes, but I’m picking the place.”

“Lead the way,” he said. Elide didn’t look behind her to see the open-mouthed grin he had plastered on his face, lighting up even the darkest corners of the world.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a pretty short chapter, so I'm sorry. I'm going back to school this week, so I don't know when I'll be able to update next, but I still love hearing from you all!

There was a diner a couple of blocks away that was absolutely to die for, but so small that no one ever really knew about it’s existence. Elide and her roommates were frequent customers, even though they’d always complained that everything was too greasy (they loved it). Elide was a little nervous bringing Lorcan to a place that had previously been only hers, and she hoped that he wouldn’t make her regret it, being the annoying prick that he was.

They sat across from each other at one of the four booths, not talking. Elide folded her hands on the table, praying that the waiter would come faster. Lorcan was bouncing his leg, and it was shaking the table, but she refused to be the one to break the silence and ask him to stop.

“So,” Lorcan said, his voice tapering off at the end. She whipped her head to look at him, eager for him to say something.

“Yes?” Lorcan opened his mouth to speak again, but just as sound began to come out, the waiter arrived.

“What can I get you guys?”

Elide fought a sigh and looked up at the waiter. He had deep brown skin that was shiny under the florescent lights, a white apron tied around his jeans and t-shirt. Her eyebrows raised as she recognized him. Something clicked in his brain at the same time.  

“Ellie, hey!” She did her best not to wince at the nickname.

“Jamie! How are you? It’s good to see you,” she said, and meant every word. Jamie was a dance performance major and had been her _pas de deux_ partner the semester before her fall. He was easily one of her favorite people that wasn’t directly part of her group of female friends, but she hadn’t seen him since the whole class had come to visit her in the hospital a couple of days after the fall.

“I’m doing really well. Calculus is kicking my ass this semester, but I needed a math credit.” He shrugged. “We miss you. I miss you.” She smiled sadly.

“I miss you guys, too. More than you know. Normal school isn’t nearly as interesting.” Jamie laughed, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I can imagine. We’re having a party once school starts up again, you should come. You know you’re always welcome to hang with us,” he said, placing one of his hands on hers and running his thumb along it.

“Thanks for the invite. Maybe I’ll try and drag Manon along with me.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said, a grin splitting his face. He really was quite charming and he was an absolutely stunning dancer. She felt a pang in her chest thinking about ballet, but it wasn’t as crippling as she thought it would be.

There was silence for a minute before Lorcan cleared his throat and ordered a burger. Elide tucked her hair behind her ear and ordered as well. Jamie waved and returned to the kitchen. She was still smiling as he walked away. Lorcan cleared his throat once more. She looked at him and he was glaring at her.

“What?”

“Who’s that?” Elide rolled her eyes.

“Jamie. He’s a dance major. Super talented.”

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you.” She scoffed.

“And how did he look at me?”

“Like you were broken. Something he could fix.” He tore the paper napkin he was holding in half. Elide shrugged.

“So?”

“You aren’t.”

“I hate to break it to you, buddy, but I had to wear a cast for two months and a boot for another three. I’m pretty sure that classifies me as _broken_.”

“So you _do_ think you need to be fixed?” She shrugged again and Lorcan’s frown deepened. He didn’t say anything more, just took a sip of his water. They were silent until their food came, thankfully only a few minutes later.

“Fast,” Lorcan remarked. Elide nodded awkwardly. He’d finished his fries before he said anything else. “You’re good at it, you know. Teaching.”

Elide raised her eyebrows and laughed to herself a little.

“This is coming from the guy who said that he hates kids.”

“You don’t have to like them to be good at teaching them, you just have to care about them.”

“So you care about them?”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t like them.”

“In general, no, I don’t like kids. Those kids are alright, though.” Elide laughed softly.

“You’re good at it, too.” He smiled and said something that sounded like _thanks_ , but was slightly muffled since he was chewing on a bite of his burger. Once he’d swallowed, he tried again.

“Thank you,” he was quiet for a minute, deciding whether on not to continue. He did. “My mom was a teacher before she passed away. It’s not like it’s something I want to do for the rest of my life, but… I like it. Makes me feel closer to her or whatever.” Elide checked to see if he showed any emotion on his face. He didn’t. He just kept chewing, staring intently at the lettuce he’d set on his plate.

“I’m sorry.” He shrugged.

“I was really young, I don’t remember her much. I grew up in a series of foster and group homes.” Another shrug. “What about your parents?”

Elide swallowed. She didn’t like to talk about them much. Really, she didn’t like to talk about her life back in Denver at all. But he’d shared something about his past that likely wasn’t easy to talk about, so she figured she could return the favor.

“Uh, they were in a car accident right before my freshman year. I moved in with my dad’s brother, Vernon. He was, well he _is_ … he’s awful. I was practically locked in my bedroom for all of high school. I went to school and dance and came home and that’s it. Doesn’t really make for a lot of friends.

“The only times I ever went out were to the Colorado Ballet. My mom, like, pre-purchased season tickets up until my graduation year or something, so I got to go see every performance. There were like three or four a year, including the annual _Nutcracker_. Vernon came with me, which sucked, but he mostly just slept the whole time.  It was the only time I didn’t feel trapped.

“‘S not what started me and ballet, but it fueled it. When I started auditioning for schools, I got basically a full ride to Indiana, so I took it. Anything to get away from Vernon. I was more into classical ballet, but the contemporary program here is fantastic and now I love it, too. And it did the trick.

“When I broke my leg last semester, I didn’t want to tell Vernon at all. I thought he’d make me come home. But the reality was much worse. So, now I’m stuck like this.” Elide shrugged and looked down at her food. The buffalo wings didn’t look very appetizing anymore.

“Let’s get out of here,” Lorcan finally said, his deep voice rumbling.

“What?” She said, looking up at him.

“Unless you’re still eating, or—“ Elide shook her head.

“Nope. Sounds great.” She slid out of the booth and Lorcan followed, slapping some cash down on the table and putting on his down jacket. She almost told him that she could pay, too, but decided against it. Elide turned and waved to Jamie as the bell at the top of the door sounded. Lorcan held it for her, and she thanked him quietly.

“So, where to?” Elide asked, her eyes trained on Lorcan’s profile.

“Wherever.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t know how to get to wherever. I’m gonna need something a little more specific.” He exhaled out of his nose: his version of a laugh.

Lorcan scratched the back of his neck and scuffed one of his feet along the sidewalk awkwardly. Elide hadn’t thought he _could_ be awkward.

“I mean— we could go back to my place,” he said, asking it like a question. “I have a ton of roommates, but our house is pretty big and they probably won’t bother us. We can just… I dunno, watch a movie or something?” She smiled. He was _nervous_.

“Do you have ice cream at this so-called ‘house’?”

“Mint chocolate chip.”

“Sounds like a great idea to me.” Lorcan smiled and Elide started sauntering off, her legs going every which way. She stopped a few meters from him. “I actually have no idea where your house is, so…”

“It’s back this way,” he said, jerking his head the opposite direction of where she’d been walking. She blushed a little, jammed her hands into her pockets, and followed him off-campus.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took forever, and I'm so sorry! But here it is, even though it's kind of short. It's unedited so I could get it up faster, so if there are any mistakes, I'll fix them later

Lorcan’s house was nothing like she expected. It was a little ways off campus, but neither of them minding walking. It was quiet most of the way there, as was tradition among them, but they walked in step, Lorcan slowing down to match Elide’s slower pace. Her ankle didn’t bother her anymore, but her legs were significantly shorter than his. Elide briefly considered grabbing Lorcan’s giant hand, but decided against it.

His house was a big, three-story Victorian monstrosity. It was painted a shade of blue that was probably once beautiful, but had faded as time passed. The front porch wrapped around, but the white paint was chipping off the railings and Elide thought there might be a couple of holes in the wood. There were three wooden chairs out front. Lorcan pulled a keychain out of his pockets and jammed one of them into the door. Elide winced, slightly afraid that the fragile-looking thing would come off its hinges if he used his full strength on it. The lock was stubborn, and Lorcan tried once, twice, three times before the key turned and he was pushing the door in, letting Elide walk in front of him.

The first thing she noticed was that there was not a lot of actual furniture, and the select few items that were scattered about the ground floor of the house were pretty beat up. They had a small loveseat-type couch plopped in front of a TV that looked like it was from the ‘90’s, but no other official seats in the living room. There were four beanbag chairs, though, and it looked like they brought chairs in from the kitchen if they all needed to watch something together. (Elide couldn’t be sure how many people lived in this house, though, so maybe they all fit on a loveseat and the beanbag chairs).

She stood awkwardly at the doorway, taking her shoes and coat off as Lorcan went to go tidy up a little bit. She tried to peer up the stairs that were in front of her, but they were pretty steep and started to be enclosed as they reached the second floor. She shrugged and pulled off her boots, setting them in the pile of shoes on a mat by the door. She noted that they were all men’s shoes, ratty and dirty, but there looked to be multiple pairs for each resident. Unless there were twenty or so boys in the house. Elide didn’t understand how they stepped around all the pairs of shoes every day. She would have tripped trying to get a glass of water.

She tapped her foot as she waited for Lorcan, trying to find somewhere to hang her coat, but failing. She settled for setting it on the side of the stairs, bunched up so that no one would step on it. She heard the stairs creak, and looked up to see a boy in nothing but a white t-shirt and underwear. He made it all the way down the stairs before he noticed her.

He had dark eyes, the color of potting soil, but his blond hair was a stark contrast. His skin was tanned slightly. He was decidedly very nice-looking. Elide waved to him awkwardly.

“Hi, I’m—“ She began, before he cut her off.

“Girl!” He turned around and yelled it up the stairs, giving her a brief nod before jogging back up the stairs frantically. Elide thought he might trip on the wood. She heard a chorus of _shit_ s and _girl_ from the upstairs, but she ignored it and went into the kitchen to find Lorcan shuffling through the freezer. She leaned up against the counter that held the sink, full to the brim with dirty dishes. He heard her come in, and stopped his search.

“I’m sorry it’s so messy, we haven’t cleaned this week and—“

“It’s fine,” Elide said, smiling faintly. He nodded and started pulling things from the freezer into his arms. He’d taken off his coat and was wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt underneath.

“What are you doing?” She asked. He didn’t bother to turn around.

“Trying to find the ice cream. I know it’s in here somewhere.”

She moved to stand near him, holding her arms out for him to place the contents of the freezer in. He looked at her briefly, thanking her with his eyes, and started piling boxes of Ego’s, bags of frozen fruit and what looked to be various frozen sauces into her arms. They were chilling her through her shirt. Finally, he wedged out a container of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream, and Elide helped him replace the other items, glad to have them stop melting through her sweatshirt.

“Spoons are in that drawer, if you wanna grab two,” he said, pointing to the drawer he meant. She grabbed them.

“No bowls? What a rebel.” Lorcan rolled his eyes at her and she followed him into the living room. There were three boys waiting for them when they entered. Lorcan pushed past them and made himself comfortable on the couch, gesturing for Elide to follow.

“This is Elide,” he said. He grabbed a remote from the floor and attempted to maneuver it around the boys to turn the TV on. She waved. One of the boys was the one she’d seen on the stairs. He’d thrown on a pair of sweatpants, likely why he’d dashed back upstairs. Another looked like the first boy’s brother, though his hair was dark instead of fair. The third had hair so light it looked silver and eyes as piercing green as a pine-tree.

Lorcan flipped the lid off the ice cream and held out his hand for a spoon from Elide, who was still staring at the three boys. He coughed and waved his hand in the air, dismissing them.

“Fenrys, Connall and Rowan. Roommates.” Lorcan didn’t acknowledge them more, but Elide spared them another brief wave. They left the room grumbling and all stumbled into the kitchen.

“They seem nice,” Elide said, just as he got up to go find a DVD from the stacks they had next to the TV. He didn’t say anything, so she continued. “So you guys can afford this place with only the four of you?” He shuffled through a few more cases before he answered.

“There are 6 of us. Gavriel and Vaughan aren’t here. Or they didn’t bother to come down,” he shrugged.

“How do you know each other?”

“We did our undergrads together. We met in Beta Theta Pi during our freshman year. _How_ we became friends is a longer story. But we’ve been together ever since. Most of us are in Grad programs now, but a few just work.” He shrugged again.

“ _You_ were in _Beta_?” Elide said, doing her best not to laugh. He finally turned back to look at her.

“So?”

“You know that’s a _frat_ , right?” Lorcan didn’t bother to answer, just turned back around and continued looking for a movie. She rolled her eyes.

“Got any psychological thrillers? I love those.” He showed her one and she told him that it was fine without looking at the title. He came to sit back on the couch, and Elide finally noticed how little room there was on it.

Lorcan was bouncing his leg again, but this time she rested her hand his thigh. He stopped abruptly. He mumbled a _sorry_ and pulled his knee out of her reach. Elide’s hand felt like it was burning. She set it in her lap.

For the entire movie, they did their best to stay as far apart as possible. Not even their legs were touching. But Elide’s heart betrayed her, and was still beating as quick as a hummingbirds wings.  


	11. DATD Update

so i’m feeling a little unmotivated to restart this next chapter of datd right now. i really really hope i’ll be able to get back to it an finish it eventually, but i think i just need a break from the stress of writing a multi-chapter fic. BUT!!!! 

**if people want to send me prompts (on my tumblr, @warriorlorcan), i’ll try and write those into longer oneshots to try and get my grove back! ******


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